A Day Without Sun
by Gordaine157
Summary: A woman being held prisoner by her own brothers gets a little help from above when the going gets tough! Mythical creatures, ancient mysteries, and plenty of sibling rivalry! My condolences, ma'am.
1. Born to be Enemies

**A/N: Hiya, everyone! I'm back with a little something new I'd like to try here. I started working on this while tweaking 'Lost at Sea' and I found myself liking it. This isn't the sequel to aforementioned story, but I _will_ be finishing that one. In the meantime, please read and tell me if you like the angle of this... thing...**

 ** _AN IMPORTANT REMINDER:_ The Cynthia in this story is an _OC,_ and _NOT_ the Cynthia in the anime/games!**

* * *

 ** _~A Day Without Sun~_**

"Do you remember, brother? Can you even imagine what it used to be like… People and Pokémon alike, living free from the terror of death? Sleeping soundly in their beds without wondering if they'll wake up tomorrow…"

"…Are you even my brother anymore, Matthew? Or are you just a monster?" Quivering, the woman set the faded picture down and wiped her face clean. Her puffy eyes turned towards the window, watching as the orange clouds passed her by without so much as a care.

It was funny how things worked in her world… She had a blessed little childhood in a village no one around here even knew the name of. She had a loving father and a fretful mother, who sat by her side and told her stories about her people, her legacy as she drifted to sleep each and every night. And she had two little brothers who loved her to death.

Now, though… She lived in a cramped stone tower where the sun seldom shined. Nothing she said mattered anymore; her voice was often silenced as soon as it came. But worst of all, she had a front row seat to the most horrendous carnage she had ever seen in her life.

…And her brothers were the ones responsible.

* * *

"Cynthia," The sound of the metal ring on the door hitting the wall caught her attention, and she turned to see a chiseled man standing in the doorway.

Jonathan. Jonathan Gates, to be precise. Her youngest brother, and Matthew's personal assistant for that matter. Jonathan grew up a quiet child, following his brother's lead as early as ten years old without so much as a peep. She always assumed him a gullible person, but… truth be told… she never gave it much thought. Maybe Jonathan liked hurting others.

"It's time." Jonathan grumbled, beckoning to her with an outstretched palm.

"Alright. Give me a moment." She conceded, folding her secret picture behind her back and stuffing it into a crevice in the wall. Sighing, she brushed herself off and walked over to him, taking a moment to stare into those dead, brown eyes.

For a moment it looked like he was angry, but that cool indifference of his just took over and washed everything away. The man raised an eyebrow, wondering why the woman chose now of all times to engage in a staring contest. But he wasn't about to waste his time idling on wasteful thoughts like that. "Get a move on, sister. You know Matthew hates tardiness."

Cynthia walked ahead of him, listening for the door to shut behind her like it usually did. Strangely enough, however, that noise never came. _Odd,_ She mused, _What's taking him?_ But she didn't have time to think, and before she knew it, she was standing in front of her other brother, the manipulator, the liar, Matthew Gates.

Cold. There was no other word to describe Matthew. He grew up like her, a member of a long-abused tribe that had been bullied around by Redaen for decades. Unlike her, though, he held a grudge against that country. He hated its king, he hated its military, but most of all, he hated its tolerance of Pokémon. So when the opportunity presented itself, he staged a coup on his own people.

Now Matthew was a de facto ruler, and to say he ruled with an iron fist was a grave understatement. Every man, woman, and child became a soldier. Every priest chanted his verses, every politician sang his praises, and the tribe Cynthia used to know became The Brotherhood of The Blood.

"Sister," He began, stroking his rugged chin with a gloved finger. "I've noticed you're looking awfully pale as of late. You don't happen to be ill, do you?"

Cynthia was hardly paying attention. She knew her words meant nothing to that man, and instead she distracted herself by staring down his guest in the corner. "…What's Jeremy doing back so early?" She murmured.

Caine turned to Matthew, and Matthew to Caine. "Brother Caine has returned from his mission." Came the reply.

Now he was just sidetracking. Just one look at the self-proclaimed 'Huntsman' told her he had either lost a fight… or put up a hell of a savage one. But had he actually lost? _Please say he did…_ She hoped. Cynthia knew what that man did for a living, and she'd be damned if she said he didn't take pleasure in it.

 _Despicable…_ She sneered, eyeing that little smirk on his mouth. _Must know I'm looking at him._ Cynthia remembered being ordered to attend one of 'Brother' Jeremy's hunts before… And the time he took in ending that Ampharos… well… that told her everything she needed to know about the sadist in the chair across from her.

"Cynthia!" Matthew snapped his fingers, garnering her attention… if only for a moment. "You'll be attending the speech tomorrow night. Be sure to clean yourself off; I don't want you giving my men a bad impression." He waved her off, signaling for Jonathan to escort her back upstairs.

* * *

"Come on, Jonathan!" She begged, reaching the top of the stairs. "One more hour outside of that damn room!" Her best attempt at begging only earned a snort from her younger brother.

"I don't think so." He sneered, shoving her face-first into the room. "The last thing we need is for you to open your mouth and start spreading rumors again."

"'Rumors'?" Cynthia shot back. "Well at least telling lies is better than believing them!"

That worked. Jonathan almost lost it, marching over to the woman and staring her down. Something told her he wouldn't even hesitate… but something was holding him back. "You should watch your tongue, _'sister',_ or you'll end up like the animals you want to protect so badly." He spat.

 _"_ _They're not animals!"_ She drew back, but only to make sure her slap would land straight across his cheek. Hearing that satisfying sound of flesh hitting flesh… heh, it almost made her day.

Jonathan scowled, rubbing his new injury. With a disgusted snort, he swiveled around and made for the door. "…Don't give me a reason to kill you, you disgrace of a sister. I might just enjoy it." The door slammed shut and with a 'clunk' was locked tight.

Running her hands through her long, blonde hair, Cynthia sighed and threw herself into the chair facing the only window. Today had been a long damn day… and tomorrow would probably be the same. Hell, the only thing that kept her going anymore was her books. That and the few times she was allowed to talk to the prisoners.

"Honestly…" She groaned, watching the soldiers below her scramble to salute their leader. "I'll never understand why people _like_ being pushed around…" Cynthia waved the thought off, not wanting to bother with reality anymore. "I'll take my daily dose of fantasy, please." A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she pulled a book from underneath a loose brick.

"Ah… Kalosian literature…" A stupid thought breezed through her mind, earning another laugh. "Written by possessed devil women who think they're men if Matthew's to be believed!" She shook her head and ran her hand across the cover, sending particles of dust scattering into the golden rays of the sun.

The words were faded with wear, but they were unmistakable: "A Day Without Sun". By far her favorite book as of late, each and every page being dog-eared, and almost every word circled with some sort of pencil. What was it about, exactly? Oh, right.

Destruction. Angst. Those types of things.

Truth be told, she didn't see herself as one of… 'those people'. But her brothers always put her in a miserable mood. And sometimes… the best cure for that was reading about villages being razed and people being ripped to shreds! Eh, to each her own, right?

The plot was simple, really. One might even say ironic, given her own situation. People did wrong, and these very same people were punished. A sure sign of its age, no doubt, but an entertaining premise nonetheless. Why? Because punishment came from the flaming mouth of a winged harbinger of destruction. And deep down inside, Cynthia had all the cravings of a prepubescent child, much like her brothers.

 _Except she had the courage to admit that fact._ She rolled her eyes.

Not that it mattered, though. Jonathan and Matthew could waste their time spewing hatred and sewing paranoia… she'd be in another world, secretly wishing it was them running from a column of fire. Hell, maybe one day she'd be lucky enough to see that…

But it wasn't the mediocre writing of some shriveled old man that captivated her so thoroughly with the book, oh no. She didn't live for the cheap morals it so boldly flaunted, either. If there was one thing she admired in those yellowed pages, it was that simple concept she couldn't quite seem to wrap her head around: retribution. The very idea that everyone would have to face some sort of consequence for everything they did wrong… Hah, pure fantasy! Maybe on paper it'd be right, but… where the hell was hers?

So she read. So much so she never noticed the sun go down. She never noticed the troops disappear from the courtyard, or the darkness creeping through the window. Pfft, she hardly realized she was falling asleep! And, boy… what a night it'd be for her…


	2. Destroyer

Jonathan sighed as he watched her body slowly slide down into the chair, out cold. He backed away from the eyehole in the door and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, cursing mentally. _That girl and her imagination… Those ideas of hers are going to get her killed one of these days and all I'll be able to tell myself is 'I knew it'._ He banged his palm against his forehead, earning a light grunt.

"Jonathan!" A voice from below called out. "Are you coming or not?"

Weighing his options, the man figured he should settle on a dissatisfied 'No,'. But that's not what his mind was telling him. He knew his sister was broken, knew she couldn't be fixed. If he were to try something… it'd be a waste of his time and nothing more. _Dammit._ It was going to make him try, wasn't it?

"In a moment, Matthew." He finally responded, brushing the door to Cynthia's room open.

Jonathan trudged over to where the woman had inadvertently fallen asleep, his eyes locking with the object lying in her lap. For a moment she stirred, forcing him to hold still. But that didn't last long. With a swift push of her wrist, the man freed the book from her grasp and was scanning its yellowed pages.

"Hmph," He offered an unimpressed snort as he snapped it shut, sending a blast of air through his hair. "You're more daring than I give you credit for, sister." He made sure to make a quiet exit, easing the door into place without so much as a 'click'.

"And what's that?" Matthew didn't hesitate pointing out the elephant in the room: that bright red book in his brother's hand. He cocked an eyebrow, if only to give the impression he cared; whatever it was, it was found in Cynthia's room… which could only mean…

"…I don't know." Came the shocking reply. Jonathan looked genuinely confused as he slid the leather-bound tome across the table towards his brother. "I had thought it was some stupid animal scrawling, but… this book speaks of a name I'm not familiar with…" He watched as Matthew's face changed from irritated to amused to… scared.

Matthew flipped a few more pages before simply dropping the book altogether. He fidgeted with his bowtie for a moment and began tapping his finger in idle contemplation. "…Jonathan…" He drawled, his face paling. "…Would you kindly fetch me the scrolls on our people?"

There was a hesitant nod from the other man. If his own _brother_ wouldn't let him know what was in that book… what the hell did that mean?

* * *

Cynthia shot up, the realization she had fallen asleep finally occurring. Her eyes scrambled for the book laying in her lap only minutes ago, hardly paying her surroundings any mind.

 _Wait, what? Where is it? It's not here!_ Panicking, she began feeling the ground in the hopes of finding something _anything_ that'd let her hide that damned book from her brothers! She had gotten so carried away, the only thing that snapped her out of her shock was a swift, painful collision with something smack in front of her.

"Ow! What the _he-"_ Her hand, caught rubbing the welt on her head, fell limp at her side as she saw what she had collided with.

It was a tree. Sure, nothing out of the ordinary… That is, if she wasn't locked in a tower with walls as thick as mountains! Her attention quickly turned to what lay beyond that, and soon her scope was so wide it could encompass a city. She was outside, seemingly _teleported_ into the wilderness beyond her brothers!

But did that mean… She threw the sky a quick glance, and… Yes, it did mean what she thought. It was night, and these surroundings… they were familiar. The very same pine trees that she remembered seeing as a child. They were everywhere; even in her peripheral vision she could make out traces of green pine needles. But they were massive, towering far above what she had remembered. The giants shot up towards the sky, filtering what little light was coming from the moon down on to her ragged form.

The pale light of the night stars illuminated her blonde hair, creating a cascading slide of colors as she stepped warily ahead, following a seemingly clear-cut path straight through the forest. It was strange, now that she brought herself to think about it. The air wasn't like that of normal nights in Redaen… It felt _warmer_ somehow. But that hardly bothered her as opposed to the near perfect path she found herself walking.

Shrubs and pines trees, shrubs and pine trees… The scenery never seemed to change and all of sudden it felt almost artificial. Still, she walked on; she had no other choice. Were there a building in sight, she'd never have been able to see it anyway, and it was beginning to take its toll on her sanity.

Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore. _Nothing_ _was changing!_ She kept walking and walking and everything was the same and there was nothing at the end of the trail! Cynthia broke down, falling to her knees and shaking her head.

"T-this isn't real… This can't be happening… It… It's not possible!" Her eyes darted around for some method of escape, growing more and more frantic at the nothingness they found. "Hello? _Please, someone!"_

Were there an answer to her cry, it certainly wasn't what came next. As if by command, the space around her twisted and contorted, shifting from a straight path and molding itself into a circle around her. The trees began creaking, losing pine needles as their trunks were snapped to the side in an unnatural fashion, effectively creating a cage around the already panicking woman. And now that they were gone, all that was left to be seen was massive moon in all its bare magnificence.

"…w-what is this…" Cynthia found herself murmuring, instinctively reaching out and trying to push her way out from the branches. But they were very much real, and the more she pushed, the more she felt the sting of their bark dig into her skin.

But there was more than enough to get her stop. Throughout the deathly silence of the night rang the most blood-curdling screech she had ever heard. The trees began shaking and the ground was almost _trembling,_ and soon enough she found herself on her knees simply trying to avoid being blown away. And as she stared up at the sky from her natural prison, she found it absolutely void of the light in once held.

There were, however, two azure eyes the size of saucers staring directly at her.

* * *

Jonathan bit his lip as he paced back and forth in front of the door to his brother's office. "Twelve hours…" He pondered aloud, taking a moment to stare out the window at the rising sun. His brother wasn't speaking and that didn't bode well. It never did. Last time this happened was some few months ago, and… he didn't need to remember that.

Caine returned from his trip to Alto Mare in failure, and the look on Matthew's face looked like he had been stabbed in the heart. There was this atmosphere of absolute misery, coupled with the realization that The Brotherhood had probably lost its age-old war with Redaen… But the end never came, thankfully. If only by a thread, he and the others were spared… Needless to say, Jonathan was _never_ letting that happen again. Not in his lifetime.

After what seemed an eternity, the door creaked open, revealing a ragged and grim-looking Matthew. Still, he had a look of smugness about him. _"Jonathan…_ let's talk." He cooed, beckoning his brother inside.

Jonathan seated himself slowly, cautiously across from his brother in his leather-clad chair. He was posed to ask the all-important question then and there, but it seemed Matthew was eager to beat him to it. "Wh-"

"Yveltal." The gray-haired man whispered.

"What? What's-"

"The Bringer of Destruction." A gloved hand slid up from underneath the table, now brandishing a worn looking scroll. Matthew said nothing as he pushed it open, allowing his brother to study the elaborate painting that covered its entirety.

It was a monster, by the looks of it. A black and red leviathan the size of ten men, with a wingspan large enough to blot out the sun should it so choose. Jagged black patterns ran throughout it feathers and connected on its chest, where a mane of coarse, gray fur flowed like fire from its collar.

Its head, cocked down almost in disgust, bore a beak of bone-snapping power that jutted forth from its mouth and ended in two wicked horns atop its lithe head. But it was its wings that so readily caught Jonathan's eyes… Those goliath, man-crushing appendages that shot out like shadows along its already menacing body… Each and every claw as razor sharp as those on its crooked haunches.

"…Why are its eyes empty…?" Jonathan found himself blurting aloud. His body was fixated on the beast, almost ready and willing to fight it should it choose to somehow leap out of the scroll.

Matthew offered a simple shrug. "A question for another day, perhaps; this is simply the condition I found the scroll in…" He licked his lips before neatly tucking the piece of papyrus away.

His brother shifted, his muscles still tense. "What does this mean, then? Some sort of fictitious monster Kalosians scare their children with?" He scoffed and folded his arms. "Not even a complete fool like Cynthia would waste her time reading about that…"

"No. No, I'm afraid you're wrong, Jonathan." Matthew folded his hands and took a deep breath. "Our people have told stories of this creature for eons now. And though we may have cast such foolish superstitions aside… these particular stories never fail to leave my mind."

Jonathan leaned back, throwing the ceiling an impatient, hateful glare. "Is it real or not, brother?"

"Brother…" The man across from him gave a weary sigh and shut his eyes. "Would you believe me if I said I honestly didn't know? Latios and Latias turned out to be real, after all. And our own people have uttered this creature's name for years."

"Tell me what you know, then."


	3. Ready and Unwilling

_"_ _AAAAAHHHHH!"_ Cynthia was impressed she was even able to move her mouth, she was so terrified. Her body was frozen, paralyzed in absolute dread as those disembodied eyes bore into her soul.

They didn't move. Not even once. Burning, hateful orbs of blue fire, searing into her face, forcing her to stare back. The only light for what seemed like miles, the glow they gave was a harsh one, like staring into the sun. The trees, the shrubs, and _the ground_ were starting to dissipate, leaving her to gaze into the nothingness before her.

She literally couldn't shrink any further away from them, either. Whatever kept her afloat in that void of absolute darkness… she didn't want to test it. But those demented eyes! Were they getting closer?

Yes, as a matter of fact. They were. Floating towards her like creeping death, almost taunting her with her inability to escape. They were so close she could see her own frightened, shaking reflection in their gaze. And the air around her was growing thicker, tenser still as she began to cry, tears readily dripping from her already dirtied face.

 _"_ _S-stop…! Pleas-sse!"_ Several, desperate cries escaped her mouth, sounding more like sniffles than actual words.

The eyes were having none of that, though. They inched closer still, radiating a strange heat as they stopped mere inches from her face. Finally… they blinked, causing the woman to release a pent-up breath she never knew she was holding.

There was a period of silence so quiet she almost felt like screaming. But she didn't want to anger whatever it was she was seeing. She didn't want it to be there, either. Why, then, did it stay? If she wasn't mistaken it almost seemed to be… studying her… for whatever reason… It didn't make a sound as it did, though.

Cynthia swallowed in nervousness, her neck feeling cramped from staying stuck in such a position. She hadn't blinked in quite some time, and for a moment she wondered what would happen if she did… But she knew she couldn't stare forever, she just couldn't. She'd just close her eyes for a single second, and…

 _"_ _Cynthia."_ A guttural voice echoed in her mind.

* * *

The woman shrieked back so fast she nearly slammed her head against the stone wall. "Wait… what?" Cynthia ran her sweaty palm down the side of the wall, relishing in its solid, physical form.

She took a moment to gain her bearings, her eyes eagerly and happily munching away on familiar sights of dim lighting and splintered wooden furniture. _Normal again…_ She thought with a frown. _What the ever-loving hell was that…?_ She brushed herself off and stood up, her back cracking as she did. The woman seated herself on her bead, finding sweat still dripping from her forehead.

 _Must've gotten warm last night…_ She mused, feeling the humidity on her skin. _What a terrible nightmare…_ Her head fell into her palm and she sighed, memories of yesterday flooding back... "Wait. The book." She mumbled, nearly collapsing at the realization. Cynthia dragged her hand along the darkened floor, finding it suspiciously barren. Which could only mean…

 _"_ _Shit!_ I left it out!" She cursed, smacking herself on the forehead. "…Unless…" It was a last ditch effort, sure, but she just had to make sure it wasn't somehow back in her hiding place… _What?!_ Her fingers wrapped around something oddly familiar.

Lo and behold, however, there it was.

* * *

Jonathan was never one for old wives' tales, nor any folklore for that matter… but the way his brother spoke never failed to gain his attention. And right then are there, Matthew was on a roll. The man found himself oddly impressed at his brother's lack of hesitation, finding his words almost like those of a book. What Matthew spoke _of,_ however, was nothing short of troubling.

"They called it 'Yveltal' after the ancient word for destruction…" Matthew droned, his glazed eyes stuck on the open window and its billowing curtains. "It was as strong as ten thousand men, and the rage it was capable of possessing rivaled that of a god. Legends speak of times when man had sinned, and the beast would descend the following night, blotting out the moon with its terrible wings. Yveltal would act as a force of vengeance, sparing no one as it razed entire cities to ashes…"

Clearing his throat for a moment, Matthew sunk his head and continued. "…Apparently, the beast would take a toll so gruesome maps would have to be redrawn. It would kill so many people the others never bothered digging graves. It would leave the ground so charred, so blackened that it couldn't sustain life for years after. Simply put, it was a nightmare come true."

"Well we don't need to worry about it if it doesn't exist, now do we?" Jonathan responded, draping his arms over the table.

"You're missing the point, Jonathan." Matthew retorted, wiping his brow. "This was never about the creature. It was about dear Cynthia's obsession with those wretched animals. And this book…" He lifted the tome up and shook it. "Is only proof that she continues to defy us…"

His brother rolled his eyes, hardly feeling shocked at what he was hearing. "I think we were all well aware of that already…" Smashing a fist on to the table, he leapt out of his seat and growled. "That _stupid bitch_ freed our prisoners, kept correspondence with General Johnston, and tried to convince our own soldiers to kill us! She has spat in the face of _everything_ we stand for and continues to do so! Tell me, Matthew, what exactly is keeping us from saving ourselves some trouble and slitting her _goddamned throat?!"_

Matthew ran a hand through his graying hair, his tired eyes skimming over his brother's rage as though it were nothing. "We are still her brothers, young Jonathan… And brothers forgive their family… whether they want to or not."

"Oh?" Jonathan grumbled, leaning palm first over the table. "Even when it comes down to locking their family in a cell like some sort of animal?"

"We will not be discussing this any further, _Jonathan."_ Matthew snapped, clenching a fist. "Do I make myself clear?"

With much hesitation, Jonathan seated himself once more. Though his brow remained furrowed, and the venom in his voice was still transparent, he stayed his hand. "…And what do we do about this book, then?"

The gray-haired man gave a soft chuckle, twiddling his thumbs in idle thought. "You did as I told you, didn't you?"

"Yes,"

"Hmph. Well... I say we let Cynthia have her fun. Let's see where it leads, shall we?"

* * *

Said woman was busy upstairs, tidying herself up for no particular reason other than to make her brothers look good. Gah, it'd been a long time since she got all gussied up… even longer still since she had done it willingly. So she stood in front of that mirror in her room for hours on end, mindlessly brushing at her tangled, blonde hair in quiet contemplation.

She wondered how long those purple rings had been under her eyes. Pfft, that didn't matter. It was a hell of strange day when she wouldn't be thinking of some way to ruin her brothers' posing, but that dream from yesterday night was still fresh in her mind. And for a moment she almost flinched, swearing she saw those horrible blue eyes in the mirror.

"…Finished?" Jonathan's ragged voice hit her ears before she knew it, earning a small, irritated twitch from her lips. She turned around to see him leaning against the doorframe, looking exceptionally cocky.

"Just… _about."_ She accidently snagged her hair, she was brushing so hard. It was hard staying calm around Jonathan, even harder still when he had that air of absolute arrogance about him. But she had better things to worry about that night, far better than Matthew and his speeches. Even so… she'd had to put on her usual front if she didn't want them suspecting anything…

"Ah… _Cynthia…_ you look stunning." And the next thing she knew, there stood Matthew, his face also wearing an invisible sign that read 'kick my ass'.

"Oh, Matthew! How 'nice' of you to notice!" She trilled, skipping over to him. "I've been doing my best 'starved prisoner' look as of late and I really think I'm nailing the whole lack of vitamin D really well!"

Matthew's response was to wrap a hand around her jaw and squeeze tightly. "I see you haven't lost that lovely wit of yours, sister. That's good… _because soon enough, you'll need it."_ He released his grip, letting her stroke her sore muscles. "I take it you're ready, then?"

The woman sneered, nodding begrudgingly. "…As I'll ever be."

"Good," Matthew chirped, handing her an expensive-looking coat. "You'll want to wear this when we address the troops. Can't have you looking like a tramp in front of _everyone else,_ now can we?"

"Hrngh," Cynthia didn't bother fighting that remark; she had enough of her brother's venom after about a minute. Slipping the fur-collared coat on, she followed Matthew's lead, Jonathan following closely behind.

The three walked down the spiral staircase of the tower, coming to a massive set of double doors where the light of day was shining through. Matthew stopped dead in his tracks, swiveling around in a moment's notice and glaring at his sister. Behind him she could hear the clank and rattle of Jonathan's armor.

"You _will_ remain silent for the duration of my speech, Cynthia. Because if you don't, I promise you: there will nothing for you to return to. Are we at an understanding?"

Cynthia nodded, rolling her eyes. "…"

"Excellent," Matthew cooed, nudging her outside. "Now… Ladies first."


	4. Sick, in the Head

**A/N: I appreciate the follows/favorites this has gotten so far! Now I don't think I'll be able to update this nearly as regularly as my other story, so I apologize in advance. But enough with that, read and leave me a review. I wanna know if you like this edgy drama as much as I do!**

* * *

The crowd waiting for her was nothing to get excited over. Rows upon row of soldiers wearing rusty patchwork armor, their helmets tucked neatly at their sides and the sweat on their shaved heads glistening in the evening sun. They looked so dead to her… _Hollow._ She thought, her eyes skimming over their listless gazes. Eventually, she found herself looking away as Matthew and Jonathan strutted out to a cacophony of applause.

There was a small crackle as Matthew tested his microphone, and she found herself drifting away from reality as soon as he opened his mouth…

"My brothers! At ease! For today we celebrate a great victory! One achieved through the sheer dedication and selfless determination of the men we hold highest!"

 _"_ _A lie and he knows it. This monster has no regard for others. Fear is his weapon, and he'll brandish it at anyone."_

Cynthia felt her heart drop, hearing that same voice from before. She stood her ground, trying to avert her eyes from her brothers and see where it was coming from. But no one else had even noticed it! They were all just standing there, staring up at Matthew and his long-winded drivel!

"Time and time again we prove the righteousness of our cause against the _imperialists_ of Redaen! Time and time again we prove why we call ourselves 'brothers', why we will _never_ be defeated! And each and every time we grow stronger still! Ours is a will that will never break!"

 _"_ _Hsss! He stands in front of them and lies to their faces, just like he did to you… They'll turn on each other like wild dogs when the end comes… And there will be no 'brotherhood' between them."_

It wasn't going away. Now Cynthia was hyperventilating, trying to swallow all the nervous thoughts in her head. Was it… _talking to her now?_ She hoped not, she _prayed_ not. But why was she the only one hearing it? She cocked her head to the right, earning a disgusted grunt from Jonathan, who was still frozen in his rigid pose. _This isn't good…_ She swore she felt her stomach sinking…

"General Johnston sought to finish us, and failed! King Richard wanted to end us, and failed! AOEN itself, in all its self-righteous pomp, tried to extinguish us… and failed. We, my friends, will never fall. For once again, we have repelled our adversaries with the fire in our hearts and the razor sharpness of our minds! And I, for one, am honored to be a part of this cause. As are my brother, Jonathan, and my sister, Cynthia."

There was a deep chuckle this time, causing Cynthia to cringe. _"If only they knew, hmm? Hahahahaha!"_

Honestly, she didn't know what kept her from exploding before. Because she was feeling pretty close to doing just that. She felt faint, her body slouching against the wall behind her as she clutched her churning stomach. Her eyes were failing her and there was a tingling sensation at the back of her head… _Oh, no…_

 _"_ _You don't look so good, Cynthia... Why don't we have a little chat and see what's wrong, hmm?"_

"N-no!" Was the last thing to escape her mouth before she dropped down, unconscious.

* * *

The air was warm again, just like it had been last time. Cynthia wasn't stupid; she knew just where she was and just what was happening. The cool sensation of the grass beneath her and the whistle of the wind as it combed through the empty forest. The trickling of the moonlight and the gentle rustle of the pine trees… Pretty relaxing… until she had to open her eyes, that was.

So she tried keeping them shut. The moon was bright enough to shine through, but as long as she didn't have to see that… _thing_ again, she figured she'd be fine. Then she'd wake up in the tower, open her eyes and… everything would be fine.

 _"_ _Cynthia,"_

Shit. There it was. She squinted harder, hoping by some stroke of luck it'd get bored and leave her alone. But she could practically _feel_ it growing closer, _hear_ the crunch of the grass as it headed her way. And before long, her sixth sense kicked in and she felt its presence looming over her.

 _"_ _Cynthia…"_ It drawled.

She squinted harder, her mouth inadvertently moving in tandem with her eyes. _Why wouldn't it leave her alone? Wasn't there enough in her life to make her miserable?_ Or was she just insane? It didn't matter. She was there, she was terrified, and there was a monster probably waiting to kill her.

 _"_ _Cy-"_

"Go AWAY!" She cried, wrapping her hands over her eyes and turning on her side. There was a small pause, followed by a loud and vicious snort. Cynthia felt the sting of hot air on her neck and felt the need to brace herself for what would surely be an attack.

 _"…_ _Are you scared of me?"_

The only thing keeping her from a snappy reply to _that_ answer was the realization that this thing wasn't her brother… and that it'd probably kill her. Instead she settled on a reserved scoff as she scooted away.

 _"_ _I just want to help you, Cynthia."_

"Now I know _that's_ a lie." She hissed, burying her face in her chest. "As soon as I open my eyes and look at… _whatever you are…_ you're just going to bite me or cut me or-"

 _"_ _Hurt you…? Now why would I do that? We have a…"_ It paused, issuing a snarky laugh. _"Common enemy, after all…"_

 _"'_ _Common enemy'?"_ She repeated, her lip rising in disgust. No doubt her tempter just wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear so he could get a better hold of her throat… Still… she found her curiosity piqued. "…And what would that be?" He

The creature took great pleasure in keeping her in suspense, chuckling all the while. _"That'd be your brother, dear. Him and his little web of lies."_ She could hear it rolling its tongue in delight, making sure to drag each and every syllable to its maximum length.

 _"_ _Matthew?"_ She nearly shot up, weren't it for the lingering fear of death mere inches from her face. "What do you know about him? And why are you talking about this with me?"

 _"_ _Ohhh, your curiosity is delectable! But these questions of yours… they will have to wait, I'm afraid…"_ Was the cryptic response.

"What? _Why?"_ Now she was curious. So much so, she abandoned her fetal position to look up at whatever was speaking with her.

The only thing she saw, however, were those same two ghastly eyes, staring right through her.

 _"_ _We'll meet again, Cynthia. That's a promise."_

There was a snicker, and then… darkness.

* * *

"I _CANNOT_ believe what I'm hearing! You're just going to- _RRRGH!"_ Jonathan's voice was echoing from around the corner, and by the sound of it, he wasn't too happy.

"What did I tell you, brother? I knew she was sick; I could see it in her face when I spoke with her this morning." Matthew's voice, the more level-headed of the two, replied.

"Sickness does not constitute a pardon! She made us look like buffoons in front of everyone!"

"Silence! No more of this!"

Cynthia ran a hand along her face, finding it soaking wet once again. These nightmares of hers… they were getting worse, and they were going to kill her if this kept up… With a small grunt, she propped herself up and looked around. She was back in the tower, and by the looks of it, was actually in Matthew's chamber.

 _Funny,_ She thought, _If I died in here he'd probably bullshit some story of trying to resuscitate me… They'd probably believe it, too._ Shaking off the negativity, she lifted herself out of the bed and shuffled outside, meeting the various looks of her brothers.

"Explain yourself, Cynthia. _Now."_ Matthew commanded, standing guard in front of his brother.

"You already said it yourself, Matthew. Don't play dumb." Cynthia was quick to retort, noticing Jonathan's failing restraint as he fidgeted behind Matthew.

 _"_ _You want to play games, then?!"_ Jonathan burst out, meeting the swift end of his brother's hand. Scowling, he drew back.

Brushing his hand off, Matthew shook his head. "Control yourself, Jonathan. And as for you, sister…" He said, gladly trading glares with the woman. "To your room."


	5. Dreams and Nightmares

Oh, he was just _begging_ for her to return the favor… It was a crying shame, though, that that was a fight for another day… _But who knows,_ She pondered, sliding her hand up the staircase railing, _Maybe with the way things have been going, that won't be too long._

As soon as she heard the door slam shut, she was fiddling through the bricks for that book of hers. And just like it had earlier, the fact that it was still there, still in one piece… it never ceased to amaze her. And for a second, she almost had to wonder if her brothers were on to her. Hmph, she knew better than to think they actually gave a damn about what she thought.

Skimming quickly through the pages to her latest bookmark, the woman stopped on a dime and gave a weary sigh. "If only I had the nerve of Diane…"

Who she was referring to was of course the heroine of the book, a born warrior by the name of Diane Vilaine. And, just between her and herself, that was the one thing the old codger who wrote the book got right. Diane didn't take flak from noblemen, didn't bow before kings, and she certainly didn't live in a twenty by twenty tower in fear of her brothers. Anyone who talked down to her was put on a level playing field by a little tool she liked to call her sword.

See, the warrior was the true harbinger of destruction in Cynthia's eyes. It was Diane who would show up at villages and warn the townspeople, and it was her who would signal the beginning of the end. It struck Cynthia as odd that the people would never listen to what the warrior had to say… But when they didn't, they paid the price, and the winged beast followed like her shadow, wreaking doom upon any foolish enough to remain.

Should she have actually snapped out of her trance, Cynthia might have realized just how closely the novel paralleled her own life, but… reading was called a world in of itself for a reason. She was too busy reading about Diane and her swordfight with the corrupt Duke of Elshire to be bothered with such silly notions. And that same inattentiveness was what allowed Jonathan to spy on her oh so easily through the hole in the door.

* * *

"Every flip of the page you could practically see that look of total trust on her face, like she actually believed in that garbage!" Jonathan spat, reclining and throwing his feet on to the surface of the table. "If this isn't proof she absolutely useless to us, I don't know what is!"

Still toying with his food, Matthew dropped his fork and threw his brother an incredulous look. "Why does this never cease to surprise you, Jonathan? Cynthia is… the immovable object. She's an obstinate fool and will remain that way until her final breath."

"…In that chamber up there? Is that how you'd prefer it'd end?" His brother quipped, utterly devoid of sympathy.

Should he have been allowed to continue, Matthew thought he might have just snapped. He supposed it was awfully fortunate, then, that one of his men came barging into the room shouting profanity.

 _"_ _Of all the goddamned carnage I've ever seen in my entire fucking life! I can't-"_

 _"_ _Enough!"_ Matthew roared, pulling himself out of his seat. With firm hands and an equally firm tone, he cocked his head to the sweaty soldier that so rudely interrupted his dinner.

The man's helmet was missing and his face bore all the wounds of a person who'd been mauled by an animal. It wasn't hard to tell he was short of breath, but why he was using what little he had left screaming incoherently was anyone's guess. "…S-sir, I… I cannot begin to apologize for this…" He whimpered, common sense outmaneuvering his adrenaline.

 _"_ _Stop._ For a moment… and think." Matthew ordered, now standing at full attention. He pulled the man a chair and forcibly seated him with an errant hand, taking his own soon after. "Now… Would you care to elaborate?"

The soldier took a deep breath and nodded. Swallowing, his head rolled back and he eyed the ceiling. "…We were on foot patrol, sir… Just outside base camp… Probably… five or so miles out…" He soon readjusted his focus, now quivering with a sort of fear Matthew had seldom seen. "A-and… I didn't even blink and… they were a-all… dead… All four of them! Absolutely all of them! Not a one of the poor sods even had a chance!"

Now intrigued himself, Jonathan leaned up and thrust his face into the man's. "What did them in, then?" He cocked an eyebrow.

The soldier's only response was a long, slow shake of his head. His eyes looked dead and they had fallen on the wall, seemingly stuck there. "…I don't even know… Whatever it was, though… there's no way… there's _no_ damn way it was human… Not AOEN or The Crusade or anything…" He slumped down into his seat, maintaining his morose demeanor.

Had Matthew's eyes not been wide before, they certainly were now. He supposed it was the man's particular choice of words, but… it certainly had a hold of his fascination… "And how did you manage to escape?"

"I-I… I don't know… I just… I just kept running and I turned around and I swear I saw something and it…" His breaths became shaky once more, warning of the sobbing to come. _"…It was looking at me…_ Almost like it spared me… so I could tell you…"

Jonathan shot his brother a long, curious glance, and Matthew mirrored him to the letter. Turning his attention back to the soldier, he pushed his seat out and lumbered over the man. "Why don't you head over to the infirmary; get yourself patched up, eh?" He offered, patting the trembling man on the shoulder.

"Y-yes, ss-sirs…" Still a nervous wreck, all the soldier could offer was a nod as he hobbled over to the door.

Jonathan's blunt nature got the best of him, and he found himself before his brother without a moment's hesitation. He knew he'd be cutting to the chase, and he figured if ever there was a time to do it, it'd be when Matthew was in a reasonable mood. "What attacked him?"

Matthew closed his eyes and worked out the kinks in his neck. With a quiet sigh, he nudged his empty plate towards the center of the table and reclined in his seat. "…Hmm. A common blunder, by the sound of it… Probably a pack of Mightyena, too hungry for their own good…"

"Our men aren't a bunch of idiots wearing colorful costumes, brother. They're trained soldiers. Four men dead and one torn to ribbons, and you're not the slightest bit concerned?" Jonathan scrunched his nose in frustration.

"And waste resources tracking down some rabid 'mon in the middle of the woods? I don't think so."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Jonathan retorted, spinning on his heel. "'Cus I am."

* * *

Cynthia was conflicted. Night was coming- _fast._ Night meant sleep, sleep meant dreams, and dreams meant… _Deugh,_ she didn't want to know. Shuddering, the woman stood up from her chair and began pacing. She just needed to think. And she had plenty of that before, being the pet her brothers never wanted. But now…

 _Now the tide had turned…_

It seemed like any time she'd close her eyes anymore, she'd be in some horrible dream world where a pair of floating eyeballs would try and make her regret being born! And that'd usually be enough for her to say 'that's that' and accept the fact that she was insane! Of course until the eyeballs started talking more and more sense and she found herself paying them more heed than she'd ever meant to…

So the question remained: should she fall asleep and face the monster… or… Well, there really wasn't any other choice, now was there? And that thought genuinely scared her. Never being able to sleep again… _Lord Almighty, what a terrible thought…_

Cynthia took a long, deep breath in contemplation and seated herself at the foot of her bed. This… now this was being backed into a corner. Having already run out of options, she decided to quit with the stalling and crawl into bed, lazily heaving her blanket over her torso. It'd bed hard, but eventually she'd get her body to lower its guard, and… she'd meet Him again.

Hours. Hours of lying in her bed in the humid night air, staring blankly at the ceiling with a lingering feeling of dread building in the pit of her stomach. She wondered if the voice she heard was telling the truth as she lay awake, remembering just how sickeningly sweet it had sounded. And if it was, what then? Would it concoct some sort of scheme to get rid of Matthew? What if's, what if's…

Before she knew it her eyes were open again, dilating at the glow of the moon. Cynthia couldn't help but frown; this place was beginning to become familiar her and she hadn't the slightest clue why. But, rubbing her hair free of grass, she stood up and took a good look around.

 _Hmm…_ Her eyebrows raised at the sight of something other than trees. It was… a tower… And if she had any ounce of sense left in her, she would've sworn it was just like the one Matthew liked keeping her in. So, shrugging, she walked towards it.

The ground seemed to contour with her steps, almost forming a natural staircase as she descended the small hill towards her destination. And without the voice, without the darkness and the emptiness… it was almost serene. No soldiers and their clanking armor, or the chains on their prisoners. But no animals, either… Just the sound of leaves in the wind, and the rustle of her hair against her clothes…

Finally, she had arrived. The tower shot forth from the ground as a perfect, symmetrical pillar of stone, casting a shadow that loomed over her for steps on end. She peered through one of its windows and sighed. _Empty._ She thought, brushing the wooden door open with ease.

The inside was no different. Absolutely nothing was inside, save for the spiral staircase that dominated the the circumference of the room. It was wooden, and each and every step she placed upon it sent a creak reverberating throughout the empty structure.

The stairs were great and many, but strangely she never seemed to grow tired. Her emotions, however, were far from restrained in the fake world. Rooms upon rooms of nothingness, just as she had come to dread... _How long until something comes out and grabs me…?_ Was the ever-present thought.

But, alas, a light at the end of the tunnel. She stopped in her tracks, eyes locking with a heavy-looking trapdoor that signaled the top of the tower. Whatever hope she had been holding out… it relied on whatever was behind that thing. So with a heavy push from her upper arm and shoulder, she heaved it open. There was an ear-splitting slam as the wooden door smashed against the stone tower, echoing throughout the empty forest.

Cynthia stepped into the moonlight with little fanfare, brushing the dust from her clothing and tilting her head in every which direction. Eventually, she figured there was really only one surefire way to see if she wasn't alone: tempt fate.

"I'm here." She announced, never once breaking her gaze with the moon.

There was a small rustle from below, and she could've sworn something had happened, but… nothing was there. Just another hollow breath from the forest of the fake world.

"…Hello?"

A brief pause, but her question wasn't left unanswered for long.

 _"_ _Didn't your parents teach you better than to tempt fate, Cynthia?"_ A sinister laugh let her know she had done something right.


	6. Face to Face

Splash, squish, crunch, splash, squish, crunch… Jonathan's boots threw yet another puddle of rain into his face, earning an irritated groan as he wiped it clean. The air was like breathing water, and he was far from earshot of The Brotherhood's base. If there was one thing he'd blame himself for, it was being so mistrustful; not even his brother's intuition had succeeding in stopping this foolish quest of his.

Now he was alone, far from help just as the sun had completed its daily trek beneath the clouds. Water was still falling from the heavy, soaked greenery around him as he maintained his slow pace. Not once had he felt the need to put his hand on the blade at his side. The occasional Poochyena was thrown a glare so sharp it always ended up whimpering away.

Now his suspicions were mounting. _If he was lying… so help me…_ The man's colossal boot stepped on something unusually hard and produced a loud snap, making him look at the ground.

Bones. Picked clean, if his night vision was serving him well. Indiscernible to him, really; Jonathan took lives, he had no use for what was left over. Sneering, he kicked the remains out of his path and straight into a rocky outcrop. He'd half a mind to wring the neck of that lying, cowardly soldier from earlier… The only thing keeping him from doing that, however, was the faint smell of sulfur in the air.

His brown eyes caught glints of a faint light just ahead, just as his nostrils began to reel at the smell of fire. Pushing a stray branch from out of his face, he stepped forward… and stopped. He was amazed he hadn't seen it earlier: an inferno.

An unnaturally high column of fire was seemingly stuck in an infinite loop of spinning as he watched on, awe-stricken. He winced, feeling the kiss of the fire even from where he stood: what seemed like a mile away. Whatever was feeding that fire… he could barely make it out. It looked like twigs… Trees, maybe?

No. No, it wasn't right! Off of the hot wind that struck him so viciously he could hear it: screaming. Ghastly wails that went unheard amidst the roar of the glowing monster. He shuddered. It was a village, then; there was no other explanation. And it was absolutely devastated.

 _"_ _Yveltal."_ He could hear Matthew's voice ringing in his ears, fresh as the day he had heard him utter the word.

"…Yveltal…?" The monster? The destroyer? The harbinger of destruction? _Yes…_ No man alive was capable of this kind of destruction… This was just the work of another one of those wretched, _evil_ Pokémon! And for what? No reason other than to toy with human lives? Is this how his so-called 'equals' had their fun?! By playing God?

"Hrrrngh!" Jonathan delivered a fierce some kick to the earth beneath him, sending chunks of grass flying over the hill. _So it's already upon us… The 'End of Days'? And this Yveltal wants to be the one to bring it… Fine. Let's see him try._ He took a deep breath of the ash-laden air and turned around, leaving the burning wreckage to collapse.

* * *

The door slammed behind him as he arrived back at the tower, causing his brother to look up from his scribbling. "And how did your wild goose hunt go, brother?" Matthew deadpanned.

"Shut it." Jonathan sneered, slamming his fists on to the table. "You and me, we're having a discussion- _right now."_ He swatted Matthew's papers just out of reach, eliciting a tired sigh from his brother.

"…And what exactly do we need to talk about, Jonathan?"

Jonathan made sure to lock eyes before he spoke; he knew he'd need to if he wanted to have any chance of Matthew believing him. "Yveltal." Noticing Matthew had raised an eyebrow, he continued. "I came across a village while I was searching for that soldier's squadron. Do you want to take a guess as to what I saw there, Matthew?"

"What?"

"Death, Matthew. Death, destruction, and misery… just like the stories you told me." He whispered, earning a glare from his audience.

"So you've already decided this creature exists because of some dusty old scrolls written by savages?" Matthew droned, folding his hands.

Jonathan gave a soft growl and inched forward. "You said it yourself, brother. It has the fury of a god. And I _saw_ it firsthand. Now are you going to believe me or do I need to rally the troops for an attack myself?"

"The troops won't be doing a _damned_ thing until _I_ say so." Matthew retorted, leaping from out of his seat. "In the meantime, since you'd like to feed that _fat_ imagination of yours, why don't you go check on Cynthia? I've heard some odd noises coming from her room and you know I'd cry my eyes out if dear sister wound up dead." He waved Jonathan off and spun around to inspect his books.

 _"_ _Nrgh,"_ His brother snarled, "This is _far_ from over, Matthew." He begrudgingly headed up the spiral staircase.

* * *

Cynthia took several steps back, her head bobbing in all sorts of strange directions as she attempted to locate the voice. It liked toying with her, that much she was sure of. Did it want to kill her, though? That was the real question. Either way, she wasn't taking chances, crazy or not.

 _"_ _Don't be so scared now. I'll hardly make a good impression like that."_

A bead of sweat ran down her forehead as she still couldn't find it. The primal urge to run, to hide was overwhelming… but she was fighting it. Besides, it wasn't like she could at that point; the trapdoor that had lead her here had vanished. So she figured she take a page from her book and stand her ground.

 _Yeah!_ She was damn tired of running and crying from this thing! She was sick of that feeling in her stomach and she was fed up with having to fear those eyes! If it wanted to man up and show itself, she'd let it. Otherwise, she'd be leaving. Cynthia decided on it… even if it meant leaping off the side of that tower.

Then there was a 'thud' and she felt her bravado draining through her skin.

The ground before her had coughed up a cloud of dust like… _like something had landed there._ There was an ominous hum of energy and Cynthia could've sworn on her life the moon was growing dimmer.

 _Flick!_ Oh no… There were the eyes, blazing as brightly as ever…

But that wasn't all, because soon after, they were joined by a pair of feet. And the feet joined by legs. And the legs joined by a torso. And the torso adorned with a head.

It had materialized out of thin air, arousing a fear inside her she never knew was possible. If she was frozen before, she was utterly paralyzed now. Her mind was hardly capable of thinking as the figure stepped from out of the shadows.

It looked like a walking bloodstain beneath the moonlight. Wicked lines dancing about its avian form, it cast a shadow on her she thought would stretch on for miles. Its face, or rather, its beak, was curled into an expression that could almost be confused with a smile. But those wings! It didn't matter if it wanted to play nice, the scythes that tipped those things could lob a man's head off in one fell swoop.

 _"_ _We meet at long last, dear Cynthia."_ It rasped, taking several steps forward. Noticing her behavior, however, seemed to cause it to lose some of its playfulness, and it frowned. _"Are you going to talk or have I just wasted my time?"_

Cynthia meant to respond. Really, she did; it'd only be civil in a reasonable discussion… _You know, with a human being!_ "E-erhm…" She squirmed in place, trembling at the sight of its talons. "I…"

 _"_ _You…?"_ It mocked, cocking its head to the side. _"You know, Cynthia, you're a lot more timid in person… What happened to the woman wishing a fiery death on her brothers?"_ It snickered, lowering its gaze to meet her own.

Her timing was _awful,_ but… was that thing speaking with its mouth closed? But more importantly, why was it acting like it knew her? Most people never bothered asking her name when they could stare at her face instead. Yet here was this hulking monster acting all dainty and polite!

"W-what are you…?" Cynthia mumbled, hoping to avoid staring at it; Lord only knew it could swallow her soul. "And… how are you speaking to me?"

The creature almost looked offended at such questions. Still, he acquiesced, even going so far as to take several steps back for her comfort. _"I am called Yveltal. This place, and this voice, are extensions of my power."_

Her eyes sprang _wide_ open, nearly busting out of her head. "F-from the book? _'A Day Without Sun'?"_ Weren't it for her love of reading, she'd probably have passed out by then. But with obsession came bravado, and she found herself stepping directly in front of it.

 _"…_ _Book?"_ It tilted its head. _"Why waste my time reading what humans think?"_ There was a snort, and it tucked its arms neatly behind its back.

"Does that m-mean you're… _a Pokémon?_ Are y-you even real?" She shrunk back, her inhibitions quickly returning.

 _"_ _I-"_

"Cynthia!" There was a rumble throughout the ground, and a familiar voice pierced the veil.

"Jonathan?!" She gasped, turning to see that Yveltal was fading in front of her. "Y-Yveltal? What's happening?"

The avian bowed his head in apology, closing his eyes. _"He is disrupting me. If I hold you any longer, they will suspect something."_

"B-but! What do you know about my brother? About Matthew?" Cynthia stuttered, almost tempted to reach out and grab him.

 _"_ _Hush, dear. Be patient. We'll speak again soon enough."_ Yveltal gave a small chuckle before slipping into the darkness.


	7. Bane of The Destroyer

**A/N: Couple of longer chapters here for ya. I'm starting to catch up to my writing so I might need some time for upcoming chapters. Anyhow, enjoy, review, etc. I shall see you... in three chapters' time!**

* * *

"Sister!" The first thing to come to the woman's mind was to shout, feeling the mighty grip of her brother's hands on her shoulders. She pulled back, nearly yanking Jonathan along with her.

"Oh! J-Jonathan…! It's… you…" She trailed off, eyes sticking to the wall. "Why are you here…?"

"Not of my own volition, that's for damn sure." The man spat, standing at his full height once again. "Matthew said you were acting strangely. And from what I saw, that seems to be true." His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she almost worried he might have an inkling as to what was going on.

"What exactly is so strange about me sleeping?" Cynthia retorted, plopping down into her bed. "Or did you just come here hoping to start a fight like usual?"

Jonathan raised his lip and moved towards the door. "Twitching, speaking to yourself, paling… Oh, but what do I know. As far as I'm concerned, this is just some disease one of your little animal friends gave you." Without a passing glance, he backhanded the door shut and left.

 _"_ _Idiot."_ She muttered under her breath.

* * *

Little did she know, Jonathan was well-aware of what was happening… Well, at least in his mind. _Her and that book… that's how this all started. I don't know what's in that thing or why Matthew's content in just letting her have it… But it doesn't matter. I have sworn an oath to protect humanity, and I will fulfill it. Yveltal will die, even if I have to kill him all by myself._

His brother's chambers were quiet as he entered the double oak doors. Matthew was in his own world, eyes rolling from paper to paper as his hands toiled away. Noticing Jonathan's presence, he settled on a simple glance of acknowledgement and left it at that.

"I'm going to study the scrolls for a bit, brother." Jonathan announced, already halfway to his destination. He heard Matthew murmur a response, but didn't bother listening; his hand was already wrapped around the brass handle to the dusty storage room, ready and waiting. With a firm push from his hip, the door creaked open to reveal a veritable trove of ancient knowledge.

The Brotherhood had transformed a once tiny tribe into a sizeable army, true, but that didn't mean every last vestige of that tribe had been erased from history. Of course, this tiny closet of a room may have been all that was left, and that said a lot about Matthew's mind.

Jonathan didn't care about his people's past; it was dead for a reason, left to rot in this cellar for eternity. His fingers trotted up the various shelves, feeling their way along the fragile pieces of papyrus that lined them. There was a variety of scrolls, each with various symbols and stamps, and each one of these seemed to have a different colored handle. The one he was looking for, however, was still distinctive to him. And he quickly found it.

He grunted as he contorted his arm further up and yanked the onyx-colored scroll from off of a shelf. Jonathan heaved it open and ran his eyes along that terrifying image of the Destruction Pokémon, mumbling all the while. He'd have been content with just that, but… it seemed as though fate had other things in mind.

There was a soft rumble as the mountain of scrolls above him tilted to fill in the empty space beneath them. And in the process, one of these rolled straight off and landed right at his feet.

The man took his time in responding, eyes still stuck on Yveltal's dead gaze. But when he did, he found himself pleasantly surprised. He plucked the scroll up and his eyes immediately took hold of the ancient script that covered its body. And if he was correct… it said 'Bane of The Destroyer'…

* * *

 _Diane turned to Robert, who was still trembling in fear. "Why do you stay when the end comes for this place?"_

 _The man, in all his self-induced terror, offered but a small wince. "I-I… I know of nothing outside of this place… These walls, they are all I know."_

 _She sighed; the man's demeanor was only indicative of his life beneath Duke DuMont… "Hearken, then, Robert. Your world is crumbling. You must leave this place before it is too late. It would pain me to have such innocent blood spilled upon this wretched place…"_

 _Robert's trepidation had seduced him into cowering, however. "But… If not this place, where shall I go…?"_

 _The warrior held her ground amidst the chaos, ignoring the chatter of the rabble and the growing storm on the horizon. "…Come with me. Together, we can escape this place and never look back."_

 _Beneath Robert's cowardice, a fire yet grew. It rose to his breast as his eyes crossed with those of the maiden's, feeling the intensity of her strength as she placed her hands into his own. "Pray tell… What is thy name?"_

 _"_ _Dia-"_

* * *

Cynthia sneered as she lowered the book in her arms, eyes locking with those of her brother. Hands folded politely on his lap, Matthew had seated himself across from her and almost seemed to be waiting for her to finish. "…Can I help you?" She groaned, ready to close her book.

Matthew didn't seem to be quite fond of that, and stuck his fingers in between the pages to stop her. "Why so secretive, sister? You seemed to be enjoying yourself." Flipping the book over, he thrust it back towards her.

"Cut to the chase, Matthew. Why are you here?" She snapped the book shut and quickly hid it behind her.

The man rolled his eyes, feigning ignorance, and faking innocence. "Me?" He gave a modest chuckle, brushing the the dust off of his shirt. "Spending quality time with my dear sister, Cynthia… _And learning what she did to put her loving brother Jonathan into the state he's in…"_

Cynthia scoffed, sticking her nose above him. "The 'mighty' leader of The Brotherhood doesn't know what's wrong with his little lackey? And how exactly is that my problem?" She closed her eyes, half expecting some snide remark and a door slam to her ears.

It came as a bit of a shock, then, when Matthew's smile faltered. "It's not just him and you damn well know it." There was a soft creak as he stood up and stepped towards the window. "…Recent events have brought lots of things to my attention, Cynthia. And as I've come to realize… we've grown apart." He turned around, greeting the absolutely flabbergasted face of his sister with a look of morose realization.

"A-are you being serious right now…?" Cynthia stammered. She honestly wasn't sure if he was telling the truth; Matthew was a notorious liar, after all. But she really wanted to believe him. After all the years of manipulating people, after an eternity of ignoring her… she wanted to believe him _so badly._

He closed his eyes and he… nodded! "Yes, yes… I'd have thought it was obvious at this point, but… Agh…" He sat back down and caressed his forehead. "…I just don't understand you, Cynthia…"

She was silent, too busy studying his facial expressions, hoping she'd be able to sniff out a lie as soon as it came. She was stunned with herself, really; apparently a giant, talking bird was believable… but the very idea of her own flesh and blood being honest with her wasn't…

"Cynthia, please…" Matthew murmured, running his fingers through his hair. "Tell me… Tell me what you believe."

She froze. "…'What I believe'?" She repeated, the words sounding so foreign rolling off her tongue.

Matthew tilted his head in mock confusion. "You preach it every day… I thought you'd be dying for another chance to tell me."

"…Fine." Dusting herself off, she stood in front of her brother and cleared her throat.

* * *

 _"_ _Imagine, for a moment, if there were a way to prevent every disaster. A way to save hundreds, thousands of lives from needless deaths. Now ask yourself: what price would you be willing to pay for it?"_

"Ominous words for a bunch of sniveling cowards…" Jonathan grumbled, picking through the scroll at his own leisure.

It was everything he wanted and more. Almost divine intervention, the way it simply rolled into his clutches. Apparently the ancients were well aware of Yveltal and the ruin he wrought. They knew when he'd be coming, they knew where he'd be coming, and they may have known how to stop him.

But these words! Gah, they were so cryptic they'd make code crackers blush with envy! Just moral rambling atop hand-me-down stories of Pokémon who could transform into people. A culmination of tribal drivel topped with a little cherry called 'common sense'. And here Jonathan was, trying to discern truth from all these lies.

Ah, but there was something there. He squinted, thinking for a second he'd found something useful. It was a map… of stars, if memory served him well. Below it was a list of dates, tiny numbers scrawled below and to the right margins. And below that was another drawing.

"Peculiar," Jonathan admitted, bringing it up into the light.

It was far smaller than the full body depiction of Yveltal, far slimmer too. It was another Pokémon, for sure… Why had he never seen this one either? Its elegant, flowing horns reminded him of trophies Jeremy had in his room, but he reckoned beasts of its like were far rarer. It had a small head, atop a scrawny neck covered in faded blotches of color. Its body drew back like that of a Stantler, ending in an eerily similar pair of haunches.

…But its name was faded.

"Dammit!" He roared, chucking the scroll at the floor.

The piece of history stood little chance against the cold, hard stone and shattered on impact, sending pieces of animal horn flying about the room. Still heaving with anger, the man stepped over the debris, his eyes catching a small glint beneath the pile. A fleck of silver was gleaming in the evening sun, tempting him and his powerful curiosity.

Jonathan knelt down, carefully spreading the pieces of the scroll with his hand so he could have a better look. He hoped his eyes weren't deceiving him, because he just got a long, hard look at what appeared to be a map amidst the rubble.

"…Nrgheheheheheheh! _AHAHAHAHAHAH!"_ Echoes of his bellowing laughter rang throughout the tower as he held the translucent paper up to the window.


	8. Caine is Able

_"_ _You,_ Matthew, are what is wrong with this world. People like you and Jonathan who do absolutely nothing to try and make things better! You hunt down innocent Pokémon and slaughter them to make your disgusting trophies! Then you lie to all these men and women and you brainwash them into thinking we're fighting a bunch of rabid animals!" Cynthia took a deep breath, meaning to continue.

"They killed our father, Cynthia." …But she was interrupted.

 _"_ _That's!"_ She nearly choked on her own words, she became so flustered. "That's a freak case, Matthew! The rest of them have done absolutely nothing wrong and all you want to do is bla-"

"That Zoroark had absolutely no remorse in its eyes." Matthew butted in once more. "And what about those Lucario that attacked you as a child? I don't seem to remember them stopping and feeling sorry… In fact, if it weren't for father putting a bullet between their eyes, I doubt you'd even be alive. Face it, Cynthia, you don't even know what you're talking about. You're defending rabid animals with no conscience."

 _Now_ her blood was boiling. "Oh? Oh? You're one to talk, defending murderers like Caine who hunt _children_ for sport! It's one thing for us to lead separate lives from them, Matthew. It's another to actively try and _exterminate_ them!" She was seeing red, pacing erratically about the room like a wild animal.

Matthew sighed, his hand dragging down his face and wiping his sweat off along with it. "Their offspring are every bit as dangerous as the adults. And _what I'm doing,_ dear sister, is ensuring we are no longer pushed around." Frustration was mounting, and his teeth began to show behind what little restraint he had left. "The Pokémon wouldn't hesitate for a second before sinking their fangs into _our_ children. _They are a rapacious breed of subhuman filth bent on eradicating us!_ And for you to sit here and flirt with danger as you do, openly inviting animals who would just as soon kill us as speak with us! _You're disgusting!"_

She stopped. "…You asked for me to tell you what I believed, Matthew." She whispered, balling her hands into fists. "And I believe you're a monster."

Her brother gave no response, only a simple scowl of disapproval. His fingers twitched on the arms of his chair for a moment, but eventually he stood up and began making his exit. He was going to close the door and be done with it, but it seemed like his sister had something to add, as she grabbed hold of his shoulder.

"I _will_ stop you, Matthew. One of these days, your whole world is going to come crashing down. And I'll have been the one to do it. _That's a promise."_ The glow in her eyes was fierce, and weren't he livid with rage, he'd have admitted he respected that. But the woman's tone… her posture… he didn't have the time nor the patience to deal with them; she was blowing smoke like she always did.

Matthew shook her off and slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

Were there ever a night Cynthia wished she'd fall straight asleep, tonight was the one. Unceremoniously, she tossed herself on to her bed and clamped her eyes shut in the hopes of some early sleep. Only the absolute blind rage in her head was making that rather difficult.

What looked like a chance at genuinely expressing herself to her brother… A chance for him to finally understand why what he was doing was wrong… It was all a game. Probably just another ruse to buy some time and maybe sneak something out of her room for study.

"Hmm…" With a spare hand, she reached under the bed and pulled out her book.

Well, maybe not. But if not for the book… why did Matthew even bother coming upstairs? Did he enjoy bickering with her? Or was he just 'testing the waters' and making sure his little pet wasn't thinking of escaping? It didn't make sense; six days out of the week he never had a minute to listen to her preaching.

 _Why do I even care anymore?_ She found herself thinking. Part of her was still stuck, fixated on that boy in her photograph. That happy, smiling Matthew who could do no wrong. _I guess part of me still wants to care…_

 _"…_ _Cynthia~"_ An ungraceful voice sang through her mind.

Her eyes popped out of her skull as she pulled herself out of the sheets. "…Yveltal?" She whispered, trying to get a bead on his location. "Where are you…?"

A small round of laughter and then a tap. _"Out here, darling."_

Oh how she hated that smarmy, flirtatious tone of his… She'd never tell him, sure, but it made her feel uneasy whenever he was around. Tonight, though, that didn't matter; _she_ was the one waiting for _him_. So she crawled out of her bed and followed the noise over to her window. Unlatching the lock, she poked her head out the window and nearly fell down at what she saw.

His face was mere inches from hers- _upside down._ The tuft of gray fur on his chest was dangling in the midnight breeze, wafting an acrid scent into the room. A smell of burnt wood and pine trees permeated his body, and he didn't seem the least bit troubled about any of it.

"Y-you! _S-so you a-are real!"_ Cynthia gasped, taking several slow steps back.

He opened his beak to speak, but paused, seemingly intrigued by her living space. His narrow tongue lolling out of his mouth, his beady eyes rolled from wall to wall, looking unimpressed overall. _"This is where you live, then?"_ He closed his mouth and shook his head. _"A shame."_

"Shh! Don't let Matthew hear you or-"

 _"_ _Ahahahahah! Still don't get it, do you?"_ Yveltal cackled, cracking a grin. Cynthia still looked puzzled, so he continued. _"This is telepathy, Cynthia. Your nitwit of a brother can eat his paranoid heart out, he'll never hear anything between you and I…"_

She clutched her heart for a second, the pang of unreality hitting her so hard. "T-this…! What? How am I…?"

 _"_ _Shush,"_ The avian commanded. _"We don't have much time, you know."_ There was a loud scratch as he readjusted himself, his head now sticking through the window at the proper angle. _"Grab on."_

"What? _No!_ How do I know you won't try and… _eat me?"_ Cynthia scrambled back, stumbling on to the floor.

Trying his best not to look offended, Yveltal offered a face as flat as stone. _"You don't."_

The woman gulped as she regained her composure. She didn't like the odds he was giving her… but did she really have any other way of escaping this horrible life of hers? "…"

Yveltal watched as her shoulders slouched, her chest heaving forward in a massive, exasperated sigh of defeat. And as she marched shamefully up to his face, he couldn't help but grin.

 _"…_ _Daring today, aren't we? I wonder what's made you so bold?"_

She furrowed her brow and planted a foot against the floor. As much as she was psyching herself up for the task at hand, it wasn't really helping. Unless she suddenly grew twenty feet tall, she was still just an easy meal to this thing. But what her brother said earlier… she'd be proving that wrong. And that'd be enough for her.

"If you try and kill me, I am _not_ going down without a fight. Do you understand me?"

* * *

The man reclined into his chair, idly tossing another log in to his fireplace. He sank his head deep within the cushions of his recliner and emitted a sigh of deep content. Just the crackle of the hearth and the warmth in his home… Free from the clatter of the soldiers outside, free from the chill… Absolute peace.

His eyes were tempting him to sleep, but he could hardly do that just yet. His mind was still buzzing with thoughts, memories of another day. He might call them regrets, but it was all the same. This life he had built, and the many comforts he had surrounded himself with… they were testament to his skill.

 _Why then, were there two empty plaques above his fireplace?!_

He growled, sinking his fingers into the side of his chair as he inspected his other trophies. All around him were the heads of Rhydons and Houndooms, Arboks, and Nidokings… But those were nothing compared to what would have gone above his fireplace! He had the opportunity to kill legends! Latios _and_ Latias!

…And that opportunity slipped away because of another man. _Unbelievable._

He was about to drift asleep on that thought, but a rap on his door came all too soon. Groaning, he lifted himself from out of his seat and trudged over to answer it. His door spared no theatrics, from creaking to allowing only a small ray of light to escape.

"Caine," It wasn't hard to recognize Jonathan. His monstrous bronze armor, along with his brazen disregard for subtlety made him hard to miss. He was standing out in the cold, hiding his hand in his pocket for whatever reason.

Jeremy Caine knew why he had come. He knew why anyone in The Brotherhood came to him. He was their resident hunter, so to speak. Someone wanted a Pokémon dead, he made it happen. More often than not, however, Caine preferred bigger game, not whatever Pikachu had snuck into the compound. Killing was a sport to him.

So with a grunt and a crack of his hand, he beckoned Jonathan inside. The two stepped over to his fireplace, where a pair of wingback chairs were waiting just for them. Caine took a seat and crossed his legs, ready for whatever request left Jonathan's mouth. He was Caine's superior, after all.

"This Pokémon…" Jonathan trailed off, shoving what looked like a piece of tinfoil into his face. "Do you know it?"


	9. The Hunt Begins

Caine plucked it from out of his hands, surprised himself at the map's consistency. It looked like the wing of a Yanma, he thought. He studied it long and hard, and, after a great pause, nodded. "Xerneas," He answered, eyes trailing along the floor.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, taking his prize back. "Can you find it, then?" He droned.

"…Afraid not, brother Jonathan…" Caine replied, licking his cracked lips. "Y'see, legends like that aren't keen on showing themselves, not even amongst their own kind. They'll hide at the ends of the earth if it means escaping the eyes of humans…"

"…I see…" Jonathan grumbled, smoothing the map over his knee. "…I was under the impression you were looking for redemption after that blunder on Alto Mare." Even with his head tucked into his chest he could see the fury he had elicited.

Caine took a moment to crack his knuckles before shaking his head. "There was no… _'blunder',_ Jonathan. Just a _pest_ delaying the inevitable."

"I nearly killed them both myself, you know…" Jonathan snickered, now staring directly into the man's eyes. "Such frail, pathetic creatures, the 'Guardians' of Alto Mare…"

"Are you suggesting I couldn't?" Caine hissed, leaning forward. "Because if you think for one moment I couldn't fire a shot that would tear right through those _wretched hearts_ of theirs, you're underestimating me."

Jonathan shrugged. "So why didn't you?"

Checkmate. A vein was bulging from out of Caine's head by the time that remark had reached him, and Jonathan almost thought he was going to wring his neck. But Caine was a civilized man… He leaned back and resumed a normal posture, fixing his collar all the while.

"…Give me that map, and we will find this Xerneas."

* * *

 _"_ _Now why would I kill you, Cynthia?"_ Yveltal pouted, lowering his head. _"…It'd hardly be a challenge, after all."_

Cynthia had to remind herself that she wasn't talking to Matthew after hearing that remark. Hadn't she done that, she'd be short a couple of fingers… or a hand. "Just… don't joke about it." She stuttered, now strafing around him. There wasn't really a good way to go about it, no matter what angle she looked from. The bird was covered in spikes and teeth and claws…

 _"_ _We don't have the time for this nitpicking, Cynthia. Get on!"_ He shouted, gesturing with his head.

"Agh! Don't rush me!" She huffed, deciding whether or not she actually wanted to put her hands on him. She didn't know where he'd been, and if Yveltal's self-professed love of death was anywhere close to what he made it out to be…

Of course she didn't have time to think about that, because the next thing she knew he had been plucked her right off her feet and slung her on to his back. Not bothering to give her a moment's notice, he dropped from the tower window and spread his wings, gliding on the night air.

"O-oh m-my God! Wha- The?! _Put me down!"_ She flailed about in confusion, her arms flopping helplessly from side to side as the wind tugged at her hair. It was a futile effort, that much was made clear as Yveltal continued anyway, soaring through the dense forest beneath him. Eventually, she was forced to adapt, wrenching her fingers into the gray tufts that covered his back.

Aside from the realization she could fall thousands of feet to a painful death… Cynthia couldn't help but find the ride strangely _exhilarating…_ The way the cold night air stung her ears, to the whistle of the wind as it brushed her by… it was all so peaceful. She forgot what the open air felt like sometimes, being locked in that cramped little room. Needless to say, she remembered why she missed it so much. _Absolute freedom._

And though the knot in her stomach refused to fade, what with being on the back of a giant monster, she felt alive. Not knowing where she was or where she was headed for that matter… It was comforting in the face of that dreaded sense of familiarity that came with being around her brothers. And for a moment it seemed like she was floating in midair, feeling the wind toying with the tails on her coat.

Yveltal kept a steady, controlled pace in spite of his wily nature, seemingly enjoying the ride himself. He breezed past trees, brushing his claws along the pine needles and breathing deeply as he shot towards the moon. Like an artist overtaken with his work, he dove towards the sky, spiraling like a rocket in full flight. Cynthia had to brace herself as he reached his apex, feeling the air in her lungs suddenly become a lot thinner.

"Aaaaahhhh!" An uncontrollable shriek escaped her mouth as he plummeted headfirst towards the ground below.

But he was graceful for his size, and just as his beak scooped through the canopy of the forest, he ended his nosedive in favor of a gentle glide. Yveltal gradually increased his speed, shooting forth in true bullet fashion, leaving his passenger clinging for dear life. Cynthia's thoughts found themselves interrupted frequently by these life/death scenarios, and she was starting to suspect that they were intentional.

Finally, just when it seemed like she would stay airborne forever, she felt her ride slowing down, coming to a halt just as a small clearing came into sight. Sure enough, Yveltal's legs sprung forth to brace for impact, and a small cloud of dust was created as he came to a standstill.

Cynthia nearly slipped as she clambered off of him, she was so woozy. She stumbled about the grass, clutching her now aching forehead. "…W-what was… Why did you do that…?" She mumbled.

Puffing his chest, Yveltal gave a long and dreamy sigh. He gave no indication he had even heard her as he folded his wings behind his back and began staring at the stars.

"H-hello…?" Cynthia cocked her head to the side, unable to read his face in such dim lighting.

 _"…_ _Cynthia, do you know why I brought you here?"_ Yveltal was speaking, but the tone of his voice was anything but connected. He seemed… _cold._ She could see that thousand yard stare he was giving the moon, and it was generating all sorts of questions in her head.

Still shaking off feelings of nausea, she stepped over to face him, amply cautious in her movements. "You said you knew something about my brother…? Matthew?" Well, her guess was as good as any.

 _"…_ _Yes, as a matter of fact."_

* * *

"Brother, I-" Jonathan wasn't expecting to have company as he stepped into his brother's office. He cut himself off, watching as Matthew whispered something into the ear of the man at his side.

"Yes, sir." The stranger nodded, sliding an envelope into his hands. With a quick tilt of acknowledgement to Jonathan, he disappeared behind the door.

"…Were you looking for me?" Matthew drawled, sliding his finger through the letter, tearing it open.

Jonathan nodded and pulled himself a seat. "Yes, I was… I didn't know you would have guests." His eyes narrowed at the sight of the document his brother was holding.

His brother hesitated in responding, his eyes rapidly scanning his letter. "Not a guest, a messenger." Between thoughts of his sister and the work that had just been thrown on to his plate, it was fair to say his mind was anywhere but in that room.

"And what's that, then?" Jonathan grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Correspondence, military documents… Nothing important."

Jonathan knew he was lying; Matthew hadn't even bothered hiding the look of shock on his face. That meant it was bad news… not that it was Jonathan's concern. "Listen, Matthew, me and Brother Jeremy-"

"You're searching for Yveltal, aren't you?" Matthew interjected, slapping the letter down on to the table.

His brother furrowed his brow and leaned in closer. "…Yes."

Matthew sighed, clenching the bridge of his nose. "Jonathan… You realize you're chasing shadows, don't you?"

"Oh?" Jonathan leaned back, forcing his chair to bend beneath his weight. "What happened to the Matthew risking life and limb chasing Latios and Latias?"

 _"_ _Nrgh…_ You know where that lead us, Jonathan. I'm not repeating that mistake."

Jonathan shook his head in disappointment. "Your only mistake was underestimating them." Seeing Matthew's disposition start to change, he scooted in closer, making sure to lock eyes with the man. "Listen, me and Brother Jeremy are more than capable of doing this. We have the ability to kill a legend here, Matthew. Think of what this will do for morale, for the cause as a whole. Our numbers will skyrocket!"

"Heh," Matthew scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm rubbing off on you, Jonathan. But a silver tongue won't change the fact that Yveltal isn't real. And I'm not wasting resources playing make-believe. If our enemies want to kill us, we ought to make them work for it."

"You know…" Jonathan snarled, standing up. "I'm awfully tired of you taking me for a fool, Matthew. You honestly expect me to believe Yveltal is a product of my imagination when you're looking at a report on the deaths he caused?" Noticing his brother trying to slide the letter away, he clasped his hands together and chuckled. "Now I'm going on a hunt, brother. And when I return, I will bring with me a way to kill this monster."

Matthew made no move to stop him as he left the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He simply wrung the letter he was holding, sending droplets of ink splashing to the ground.


	10. A Confession

The air was tense, laden with fear and anticipation. But Cynthia came this far, and she wasn't about to let her opportunity go to waste. She'd chased a talking bird in her dreams, she'd stared an entity of destruction dead in the eye, and she'd damn well get her answers.

What did he know? And what did she have to do with any of this?

One would think the answers would flow forth like water, but this 'Yveltal' was keen on playing his riddles until they came back to bite him. Cynthia had put this must trust, this much blind faith in him… and he was still hiding behind a mask. So she'd get to the bottom, alright. In the simplest way she knew how.

"…Well? Are you going to tell me?" His appearance was becoming a lot less intimidating to her; she even went so far as to use the tone she addressed her brothers with.

Yveltal made a swift movement of one of his claws, mindlessly hacking a tree in half. _"I'll advise you not to use that tone with me."_ He hissed, tapping his wings like a nervous habit.

She blew an angry puff of air to her forehead, scattering several of her bangs. "Well… That doesn't give me much to go on… Why am I even here? What do you want from me?"

Again, he chose silence. But he could hear the irritated huffs coming from behind him… And he could see the sun beginning to rise in the distance… Yveltal was well aware of what was going on. _"…You do know what I am, Cynthia? Don't you?"_

She meant to respond immediately, but settled on a hesitant nod instead. "Y-yes… At least… I think I do. You're some sort of… spirit of vengeance… right?" She nearly winced at just how insincere her response sounded.

 _"_ _I suppose you could say that…"_ He chuckled, bending his neck around to face her. _"But you'd only be half right…"_ He sank his talons into the soft grass, assuming a comfortable sitting position. _"I… am Yveltal. A legend to your kind, Cynthia… A Pokémon, in your tongue."_ He gave a lazy snort and continued. _"And it is my duty to punish the wicked."_

"S-so the book was telling the truth…?" Cynthia stammered. If it were true… then the book she'd been reading was, what, some sort of prophecy? She was seriously hoping he'd stay and answer her questions this time.

The avian squinted, noticing the orange glow on the horizon. Nonetheless, he was quick to reply. _"I suppose it was; some humans have an insatiable fascination with my kind. It wouldn't surprise me if they went to great lengths to ensure accuracy. But I know that's of no concern to you."_

Vehemently, she shook her head. "Hardly! _I just-"_ She stopped herself, wanting to pick some concise questions. "I-is that why you're here?"

 _"_ _I thought that was obvious, Cynthia."_ He exhaled loudly and refocused. _"Your brothers are the center of a maelstrom of pain and misery. Every day they condemn thousands of humans and Pokémon to painful deaths under the banner of justice. This… 'Brotherhood' of theirs is a scar on the face of this earth. One that may only be removed with force…"_

Was it just her, or did things suddenly seem a lot more grim? She couldn't count how many times she had had fantasies of hurting her brothers, and yet… this seemed to tip the scale. Yveltal's very tone indicated a very real desire to act… and from what she knew of him, he'd only be glad to do just that.

She hardly meant to defend the vile actions of Matthew and his men, but she found herself in disbelief. "Y-you're… going to kill them then…?"

 _"…"_ Yveltal threw her a heavy look, giving her a taste as to the weight on his shoulders. His face was reflecting the experience and morbid reality of the situation at hand, but his chest heaved as though they were new to him.

She didn't need an answer to understand his intentions. Wordlessly, she nodded in compliance. One day or another, she'd have had to toss out that old photograph, anyway…

 _"_ _You don't need to stain yourself with this place anymore, Cynthia."_ He caught her by surprise, rousing from his position on the ground. _"…You're the light amidst the darkness, after all."_

"I… don't understand…" She mumbled, hands stuffed deep in her pockets as she stared at the dirt.

He knew what was on her mind, what was inherently his fault once again. _"…When I first came to this place, I was intending to burn it to cinders without a single thought. But when I saw you, standing out your window, staring into space… I found my mind strangely free of the evil thoughts all the others had."_

 _"_ _So I decided to wait. I decided to test your intentions. And do you know what I saw? Day after day, night after night, cramped in a dark cell where no one could hear you, and not a single living creature could see your sorrow… your faith never waned. Not even once. Matthew couldn't bend your good will towards the Pokémon, no matter how hard he tried."_ Now he was circling about her, sending her deep into her own thoughts.

 _"_ _I took residence in your dreams, Cynthia, because I wanted to protect you. I didn't want the one little light in this sea of darkness to be snuffed out. But I knew I'd have to do this one day. I knew. That's why I delayed the inevitable for so long…"_ There was a deep exhale, and she could hear him seating himself on the grass. _"This duty of mine is a terrible burden, Cynthia… Because every time I banish the darkness, a little bit of light always goes with it."_

* * *

 _"_ _And…?"_ Caine's voice came clearly, even from his spot in the chair.

"…We're leaving, whether he likes it or not. Matthew needs to learn he's not the only power around here." Jonathan growled, kicking the door to Caine's house shut.

"Hm," Caine chortled, groaning as he pulled himself to his feet. "I must say, I'm taking a liking to this assertive side of you, Jonathan… I think we'll make quite the team, you and I." He plodded over to a wooden cabinet and fiddled in his pocket, removing a small brass key.

Jonathan nodded, crossing his arms. He watched as Caine flung the doors of the cabinet open, revealing an arsenal of rifles that'd make any hunter green with envy. Jonathan knew his friend was a professional at heart, but the plain, almost bored expression Caine wore on his face as he browsed his weapons… it bothered him. Still, he wasn't about to turn down help of this caliber, not when there was glory to be had.

"Very good." The Huntsman trilled, flicking the cabinet shut. "Why don't you hold these for a second, brother?" He handed his comrade a small stack of weapons, snickering at the befuddled look on his face all the while.

Jonathan watched the man remove his coat and strap two pistols to his hip holsters. He found his eyes beginning to grow as Caine holstered two more pistols into a rig on his chest. He felt a growing urge to gasp as the huntsman strapped two combat knives to his boots. And it was hard standing straight when Caine slung two rifles over his back only to cock a third in his hands.

"My coat, if you would." The Huntsman's hand was shoved into his wide-eyed face, and all he could do was mindlessly comply. "Thank you."

Wiping his face in exaggeration, Jonathan turned to Caine with the map he had found. "Now that you're finished with the theatrics… Can we find a plan to tackle this?"

The Huntsman threw him an incredulous look as he nabbed the map, carrying it over to an empty desk. "You need only have asked." He mumbled, opening a drawer and digging through a bundle of neatly-folded maps. His agile fingers tumbled over one marked 'Redaen' in faded ink and he coiled his hand around just that. With a swift flick of the band holding it into place, the map was unraveled and promptly pinned to the table by Caine.

Redaen was The Brotherhood's home, and it was an agreeably small region. Bordered by Kanto and Hoenn, it was a mountainous place, bogged down by frequent rain and fog. For many years it had remained in isolation to the other regions, and for the longest time its existence as a peninsula went unused. Now, though, travel and trade were well-facilitated through its many harbors, and this was icing on the cake for The Brotherhood.

An uncountable number of immigrants came through Redaen's rocky borders, having found opportunity nowhere else. _That,_ was where Matthew and his men came into play. The Brotherhood was a family because it gave these outcasts a home no one else would. Scorned trainers, ex-team members, wannabe champions… they all had a place among the others, and that place was under Matthew's banner. He'd give them a purpose, and they'd give him their loyalty; bolstering his once tiny tribe was never easier.

These things aside, Jeremy Caine was a man familiar with the land. And as he slid Jonathan's map along his own, his eyes were picking up minute details that'd give him a lead.

 _"_ _Hrmmm…_ Tricky, tricky…" He mumbled, inwardly cursing at the ancients and their needlessly complicated puzzles. "If I were to take a guess…" He ran a bony finger along the paper, coming to a stop in the middle of seemingly nowhere. "…This'd be it…"

Jonathan leaned over the table, planting his arms at his sides and getting a good idea of Caine's intuition. There wasn't a single landmark, village, or sign of civilization whatsoever where he had pointed. "…You're sure, then?"

Caine snickered, toying with one of his guns. "Sure as the animals, brother Jonathan."

* * *

Cynthia couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was just one surprise after another with Yveltal, and by the time he had spilled his guts to her, she was shaking with confusion. The little voice in her head that was buzzing with questions was now silent, her sugar rush quelled with Yveltal's sobering words of truth.

"So… you've been _inside_ _of my head_ for…" She felt her head drooping, and the urge to faint was growing strong, but she pushed on. "H-how long…?"

 _"_ _As of now?"_ Unable to raise an eyebrow, Yveltal settled on an inquisitive tilt of his head. _"Three months' time."_ And despite the gravity of the situation, he mustered a bout of laughter at the thought. _"It's quite an interesting place..."_

Now she just felt exposed. "Agghhh! _You-_ What did you see?!" She shrieked, backing away from him.

 _"_ _I don't understand why you feel offended, Cynthia… I didn't read anything I wasn't supposed to."_ The avian replied, hints of disgust in his tone. _"In fact, if it weren't for me, you'd never have had the courage to face yours brothers as you did."_

 _Now_ he was pushing it. "You were _manipulating my emotions?!"_ Her rage was especially effective in alleviating her nervousness, and for a moment it didn't matter if she was yelling at a monster that could kill her. "Y-you! They could've _killed me_ for those outbursts!"


	11. Chasing Shadows

Yveltal's face was showing everything but sympathy, and she could already tell he had a riposte to offer. _"If you don't stand up for yourself, Cynthia, you get stepped on. I did what I thought was necessary and I'm not going to apologize for it! To have the only human in this place who gives a damn about us Pokémon stuck in a tower 'till she withers and dies?! I REFUSE."_ He was slavering by the end of his speech, civility abandoned in favor of an animalistic rage.

Cynthia was silent. Her head sunk, and Yveltal could see her scowl had yet to leave from where he sat. There was a twitch of her mouth and a jostle of her fingers before she shot up and sighed. "…You did all that just to protect me from them…?"

Through his bloodshot eyes and the hair standing on end around his neck, he gave a single, simple nod. _"I meant what I said. A single day without having to see someone torture some innocent creature is a blessing to me. I saw through your eyes, Cynthia. How you'd sneak your brothers' prisoners food… How you'd free wild Pokémon from their traps… This world would be DISGUSTING without people like you."_ He ran a claw along his beak, flicking away what spittle remained there.

In one light, Cynthia was almost… _flattered._ In another, she felt manipulated… _used,_ almost… She wanted to pipe up and respond to him… she just couldn't. And she'd be lying to herself and to Yveltal if she told him she knew how she felt at that moment. She was absolutely torn to her core, and she could already feel traces of a headache building up.

"I-I need some time to think… Please." She mumbled, suddenly feeling dizzy.

Yveltal bowed his head in response, recognizing her request. But his eyes remained locked on the ground, almost too ashamed to look up at her. She thought she could hear him sighing, but the rustling of the trees around her drowned out anything outside her head.

So she took her time in climbing on to his back, making sure he was ready and willing. When she found a spot she could get a firm grip on, she gave him a light tap on the shoulder and the two were off.

* * *

Jonathan couldn't recall the last time he'd gone on a full-fledged hunt before. But he knew for a fact he'd never accompanied Jeremy Caine, of all people. The two took little time in gathering supplies for the trek; their brains had been carved with a map of Redaen from the time they were young. It was going to prove an arduous task, however, because Redaen was still in the throes of a war.

AOEN soldiers fighting Crusade rebels and The Brotherhood plying its own trade in between… It was more than fair to say his country was a powder keg, but Jonathan didn't like reiterating the obvious. He'd follow Caine's lead like he'd planned to, and he'd let The Huntsman take all the pleasure from marching around in this dangerous battlefield.

The two took a backwoods path, one that'd avoid what was currently No Man's Land by a longshot. The only downside would be the fact that they'd be carving it out entirely by themselves. Caine made sure to have his revenge for Jonathan's earlier comment by handing him a machete and having him do the brunt of the work. But Jonathan didn't mind, he was built like a tank, after all.

The two man party traced along the coast, through forests of dead wood and bramble as they made their way to the nothing Caine had marked on his map. Though worst of it was nearly done, Jonathan was well aware that it'd all be resting on the shoulders of his own intuition. He had a dreadful, sinking feeling of stumbling on nothing at all when he would arrive at the marker. So for his sake, his pride, he charged ahead all the more viciously.

But not even he could fight forever, and eventually his own mortal body had gotten the best of him, forcing him to rest against his will. He stumbled to one knee, sweat steadily pouring from his forehead as his machete planted itself in the ground.

"Finished, John?" Caine wheezed, hacking a particularly thick vine. "Or are my eyes playing tricks on me?" Through his fatigue he managed a hoarse laugh.

"Nrrgh… Quit your games, Caine… Don't make me… wring that scrawny neck of yours…" He huffed, stroking his crimson cheeks. A gruesome cough escaped from his lungs and he slid down a nearby tree, exhausted.

"Hnf!" The Huntsman threw the last of his energy into slicing a sapling in two. He grabbed hold of the branch he removed and propped his weary body against it, hobbling over to Jonathan's tuckered frame. "We can make camp here for now, brother… I can tell you're ready to collapse just by looking at you." There was a scraping sound as he unsheathed one of his many knives.

Jonathan gave a long, frustrated groan, dropping into a puddle of his own sweat. "Dammit…! This wasn't supposed to happen! We… would've made it by nightfall…" He ran his hands down his neck, easily gliding over the sheen surface of his skin.

Caine raised an eyebrow and slowly seated himself next to the man. "Oh…? What's with the urgency, Jonathan?" One of his hands unconsciously crawled from his side, searching for a piece of wood to whittle.

"Aw… _Shit…_ Forgot to tell you…" Jonathan shook his head, sending droplets of sweat across the forest floor. "…Tell me, Huntsman… Have you heard of Yveltal…?"

Caine stopped what he was doing immediately. "…You could say I have." He murmured, fumbling for a lighter in his pocket.

"Well… I'll save you the details then, brother…" Jonathan croaked, finding his voice failing him. "…He's coming for us. For The Brotherhood…"

Again, his comrade froze. This time, however, the volume of his voice had decreased dramatically, and the way he leaned towards Jonathan showed anything but indifference. "…How can you be so certain?"

The man beside him tossed his arms back, planting his palms on the rugged terrain beneath him. He let out a long, drained sigh and tilted his head up to the blazing sun. "My brother told me all about him. And I've seen his work firsthand, Caine… I know what he's coming for… What he wants…" He closed his eyes, allowing a smirk to overtake his face. "…He expects us to lay on our bellies and accept death." A small chuckle built up within his throat. "…That's not what he'll find."

 _"_ _Is that so…"_ Caine rasped, finding Jonathan's laughter infectious.

* * *

Cynthia clambered up to her room, finding her ride's back quite the flat surface. Extra careful not to open the window too fast, she slung one leg over the wall and then another. The woman landed with a hardy 'thud', sighing as she felt the damp air of her room envelope her once more.

And the first thing she got to doing was throwing her body into her bed, burying her face within a mound of sheets. She was content to just drop unconscious then and there, but there was a nagging feeling she couldn't help but ignore. Urgh, she wished her tired body could just give her a si-

 _"_ _Cynthia,"_ Yveltal barked, peeling her eyelids open. She turned to see him still outside, finding herself impressed at the volume of his flapping. The avian pulled his head to the side, throwing her a weary glance with the windows he called eyes. _"…Are you sure you want to stay here? Freedom is only a short ride away, Cynthia."_

If it weren't for the fatigue clouding her mind, she'd almost say Yveltal sounded clingier than she had first remembered. But she found the strength to shake her head, her instincts as Matthew's sister kicking in. "If they found out that I left… I don't even want to begin to think about what they'd do to all those Pokémon they're keeping prisoner…" She raised her lip in disgust, her fingers twitching angrily at her side. _"I wouldn't even put Matthew past it."_

Yveltal seemed disheartened by her response, slowing the pace of his wings and casting a long, sympathetic frown at the woman. _"I understand."_

She nodded, eager to wrap herself in blankets and finally get some shut eye. But after a good minute or so, still found herself with company. Cynthia rolled her head back, meeting his silent gaze with a look of confusion. "…Was there something else?"

 _"…_ _No…"_ He turned away, sending a wall of wind to slap her in the face. _"…Promise me-"_ He almost finished his sentence, but for whatever reason stopped and left it there.

Cynthia lay frozen, her eyes still fixated on the vast forest outside her window, wondering what words would've left his mind if he had continued. She supposed it was none of her concern; Yveltal had fun playing his mind games, and sooner or later he'd let her in on whatever trivial secret he was keeping. So she rolled her eyes shut, finding a good night's rest a far simpler task than she had expected.

* * *

 _Creak!_ The long, grating squeal of her iron-barred window roused her from her slumber, forcing her to turn her head in the direction of the noise. She gave a light groan, feeling the cold sweat on her pillow soak her hair with an unpleasant moisture. Through what little rays of light were shining through, she saw a figure leaning out the window, his arms spread wide over the windowsill.

"Nrrughh…" An unconscious moan made its way up her throat as she stretched, cracking the bones in her shoulders. She pulled herself into a sitting position, waiting for her eyes to adjust to her dim surroundings.

Sure enough she recognized her brother, seeing his long, black coat billowing in the wind like a shadow. He hardly paid her any mind as he feasted his eyes on the scenic pines below the window, his brain seemingly in another world. But she knew he was watching; men like Matthew had to have eyes in the backs of their heads if they wanted to live longer than a day.

"Can I see you downstairs?" He rasped, snapping her out of her thoughts. She heard him slide his gloves along the coarse stone wall, shifting his weight to one hip. Matthew said nothing more as he turned on his heel and left, closing the door gently behind him.


	12. Food for Thought

Sometimes she truly wished she had a moment's worth of peace and quiet in her life. She'd love to be corrected if she were wrong, but she could've sworn her brothers just wanted her thrown in a dark room and forgotten about… Yet they were there every day, saying one thing and meaning another. Asking her for civil discussions and ending up screaming at her and her 'ways'. Cynthia doubted she'd ever understand their two-faced personalities; she supposed there was small a part of them that felt guilty for being so evil.

And then there was Yveltal. With his riddles and his total lack of regard for life or personal privacy… Absolutely everything he had said to her yesterday was still fresh in her mind, and she'd be damned if she forgot it. It still made her stomach reel, thinking of all the thoughts he planted in her mind… All the times she could have sworn she wasn't in her right mind when she snapped at her brothers…

But she also remembered what he told her. _"If you don't stand up for yourself, Cynthia, you get stepped on."_

Was that what was happening? Could she have been free all these years if she had the backbone to defy Matthew? Those thoughts were terrifying, but they were all she could bring herself to think about as she stared at herself in her vanity, running her brush through her golden locks. Like a broken record those same three emotions played themselves over and over in her subconscious, gradually making her feel physically ill.

Anxiety. Fear. _Regret._

She was hardly looking where she was going as she plodded downstairs, eyes milling about the room in search of her brother's gray hair. When she did find it, however, she saw a look almost identical to her own on Matthew's face.

"Follow me, sister." He said, pushing the door behind him open. "I have some people I'd like you to talk to."

* * *

"Nrrgh!" Jonathan's latest stroke slid through the tree like butter, sending bits and pieces of brush raining down from his arm.

"Heh. Well done, John. Who needs an ox when we've got you, eh?" Caine snickered, taking cautious steps over the fallen greenery, plodding his way into the open.

The two had arrived at what they had hoped was their destination. But were there ever a time for sinking feelings, now was perfect. Because the two man party had stumbled on a great big open expanse of nothingness. As they emerged from the darkness of the forest the only thing to greet them was the smell of the knee-high grass around them.

Awfully odd to have a large, circular plain of grass, but… what was there to go on? There were no ruins, no statues, no signs of an ancient people… All that energy and sweat wasted hiking out to this godforsaken marsh, and nothing to make it worth his time.

Jonathan was tempted to hack the nearest object with his machete, he was so livid. Only there wasn't anything nearby. There wasn't _anything!_ "Caine! This 'intuition' of yours is starting to piss me off! Where's the bloody Pokémon?!"

Caine felt his lips tugging, on the verge of a frown. Jonathan had the body of a man and the mind of a child… that included his impatience, of course. "If you'd take the time to look, brother…" He drawled, dragging a hand along the moist ground. "…You'd probably find what it is you seek."

 _"_ _Grah!_ I didn't spit in my brother's face to run out and chase riddles!" Jonathan grumbled, sheathing his weapon. He parted some of the grass, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. "The ancients put so much faith in these stupid legends of theirs, they never bothered wondering if they were real or not! I'll-" He stopped mid-rant, feeling a hand grab hold of his shoulder.

"Jonathan," Caine called, chuckling. "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss our little find…" He turned his comrade around, gesturing to the stone tile beneath his foot.

Jonathan almost gasped, he felt so foolish. With a quick prod of his own foot, he parted the grass an uncovered yet another tile. It was large, almost like it had been cut straight from a mountain. The cracked stone slab was a silver coloration unlike any rock Jonathan had ever seen before, and the precision with which it was cut could still be seen, despite its age. If he were to take a guess… he'd reckon there'd be more of these…

"Is it a path?" He mumbled, kneeling over to find another. Beside him he could see Caine doing the same, revealing stone after stone and following their lead like a Houndour. He didn't care if what The Huntsman said was true, he was beginning to like this childish demeanor of his, finding himself growing more and more excited with each new stone.

Indeed, it was a path. The tiles formed a neat, clear-cut line that lead the two further and further towards the center of the clearing. And they followed, their eyes firmly stuck to the ground, watching as the stones became wider and more intricate. Eventually, this lead stopped, giving way to more grass.

"Hrmm? Where'd it go?" Jonathan asked, scraping his fingernails through the dirt.

His comrade shrugged nonchalantly. "More games, I suppose." He gave a quick look to the sky, finding nothing but gray clouds hanging over him and his partner. "It's going to rain soon. I know it's a stupid question to ask _you_ of all people, but you wouldn't happen to want to take a break, would you?"

Jonathan's response was a scowl. "…"

"…I didn't think so." Caine rolled his eyes, seating himself cross-legged in the dirt. He snatched the canteen at his side and took a large swig, watching as Jonathan dug through the dirt like a rabid animal.

* * *

Cynthia studied her brother's hands, watching as they fiddled with the rusty keys in the door. She knew where she was going as soon as she caught sight of the terrible, iron door. The prison. It was self-explanatory what went on there, and one could make a good guess just by looking at the dreary stone structure. Why Matthew was dragging her hear without a single word as to why, though…

"In we go." He nudged her forward, easing the door shut behind him. Matthew stuffed the keys into his pocket and snatched his sister's wrist, guiding her at a snail's pace.

The woman didn't bother resisting, almost finding herself comforted at her brother's lack of viciousness. Even so, that wasn't about to take her mind away from what would be happening. She tossed her eyes all about the narrow hallways, thankful she couldn't see whatever was laying behind the thick cell doors. Her thoughts were well aware, however, and they wouldn't let her forget that fact- not while she lived.

Matthew's gentle pull wound her down stairs and through corridors, under the flickering light of dying torches and past the luminous glow of melting candles. He didn't slow once, his pace planned and steady like a ghost. That is, until he reached the door at the end of the hall.

He stopped in place, his arm shooting out to his side like a stop sign, nearly causing her to stumble into him. Matthew reached into his pocket and removed his keys, jamming them into the rusted door in front of him. She could hear the rattle and shake of something inside, and she felt her heart begin to race. With a flick of his wrist and the strength of his arms, Matthew yanked the door open, creating an ominous screech that echoed throughout the entire building.

Cynthia peered over her brother's shoulder, hoping to catch a glance at whatever it was he wanted her to see. She could've sworn she recognized the outline… but Matthew never gave her any time to think.

"You're wondering why I brought you here, Cynthia?" He raised an eyebrow, his face totally flat. Awaiting the telltale signs of confusion on her face, he extended a hand, flaunting the keys he possessed on a finger. "I know what you want. And I know what you do. So I'm going to make you a deal, Cynthia…"

"You are to make these animals talk. They were captured because they know things that would do The Brotherhood great good. But it seems they don't respond well to our other methods." He paused, balling the fingers that held the keys into a fist. "…If you do this for me, sister, then I promise you: you will have your freedom."

 _"_ _Bullshit."_ Cynthia quipped almost immediately. "What's the catch?" She spat.

Her brother snickered, closing his eyes. "Spoken like a true Gates. Very well…" His eyes shot open, throwing her a look of incredulity. _"I_ will be the one to decide when you get your freedom. There will be no set number of prisoners to question before I let you go. Do we have an agreement?"

She still knew he was lying, but she nodded, if only to get him out of her hair. "I'm afraid so."

"Good," He shot, seemingly eager to leave. "Oh, and, Cynthia…" He stopped in his tracks, cocking his head back to her. "Don't think about wasting my time, gossiping with those animals. I'll know you're doing what I told you to when I get that information."

She gave a deep exhale, shuddering in the cold of the building. "…Right…" She whispered, her attention now turning to whatever lay waiting for her in the cell.


End file.
